


Seeking for Warmth

by daeguandbusan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Jicheol, M/M, bunch of drabbles, but don't worry it has a nice ending lol, i'm not that sadistic, idk what i wrote but it's, this is full of both fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9537863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daeguandbusan/pseuds/daeguandbusan
Summary: In the midst of cold air, the little warmth Seungcheol held onto gradually seeped away. Even the layers of winter clothing he drowned himself with did nothing to thaw the prickly skin, let alone his glacial heart. As the walls of regret had encased it whole and he did not bother to set his heart free.For he believed he deserved it.That he was a criminal, bound to be arrested.





	

**one.**

 

In the midst of cold air, the little warmth he held onto gradually seeped away. Even the layers of winter clothing he drowned himself with did nothing to thaw the prickly skin, let alone his glacial heart. As the walls of regret had encased it whole and he did not bother to set his heart free.

 

For he believed he deserved it.

 

That he was a criminal, bound to be arrested.

 

A criminal who had pierced an arrow through his best friend’s heart, completely unaware his word of rejection would send Jihoon straight to his deathbed, choked from great amount of pills and denial.

 

Seungcheol was as pale as the snow around him when he was discovered the next day, body out cold with a note tucked in his pocket – along with a small empty bottle, traces of cyanide found around its flared lip.

 

_“I’m coming to say sorry.”_

 

 

**two.**

 

When he first noticed a set of beautiful eyes among the sea of fans beneath his feet, Seungcheol swore he could _feel_ the cliché-butterflies-fluttering shit inside of him. If he were not to be strapped to an expensive bass - painstakingly borrowed from Jeonghan – he would have surfed the crowd and dove straight into those milky arms.

 

But he didn’t.

 

Because he had a shitty of a manager and Seungcheol only had so much patience left in him to hear the nth repetition of codes and protocols.

 

Luckily, the stranger with beautiful eyes stayed for the rest of the performance, even sparring some time for the bassist to safely tuck Jeonghan’s ‘baby’ in its velvet case before he made a beeline to the dance floor, the hoots of his bandmates fading away with every stride.

 

Then there he was; in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto Seungcheol with an intensity that was so foreign, yet so familiar. Those black irises consumed him whole as heat began to creep down his chest and bleed into his heart.

 

And god, it felt _so_ good.

 

To Seungcheol, it was a first to experience such sensation, but something – or rather  _someone_ told him (he could not put a finger on it whether it was his own delusional voice or a sign from above) he had missed it dearly.

 

Finally, he felt at home.

 

“I’m Choi Seungcheol.”

 

“Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.”

 

 

 

**three.**

 

“Now is not the time.”

 

“Then when will it be?!” Seungcheol did not mean to raise his voice, but the heat of summer was getting to him and the poor ventilated ramshackle called apartment seemed to intensify the already tensed air.

 

Any other day, he would have taken a step back.

 

However, Seungcheol had driven dangerously close to the core for him to suddenly eject himself from the hot seat he was in. So when Jihoon went back to his workstation and put on his headphones – anybody could see it was an act of detachment – Seungcheol did the first thing that came to his barely lucid mind.

 

He _kissed_ Jihoon.

 

His fucking _roommate_.

 

On the _lips_.

 

And Seungcheol didn’t stop there – he couldn’t. Overwhelmed by the bubbling pit in his chest, he then manoeuvred Jihoon further into his black swivel chair. Simultaneously nipping onto the trembling lower lip to which the latter succumbed as Jihoon granted the access, his own tongue devoured entirely. There was so much heat, so much _need_. Yet the two kept seeking for more through their flimsy clothes and the building perspiration, for it was not enough to quench the thirst.

 

It was not long until all what’s left was tangled limbs on the floor, pieces of drenched garments thrown aside.

 

“Wait,” Jihoon mumbled against Seungcheol’s needy lips “-what were we fighting about, again?”

 

Seungcheol heaved out a light chuckle, “Honestly? I don’t give a damn.”

 

 

 

**four.**

 

 _Shit_.

 

It was half past one in the morning and _shit_ , it was too early for this well -  _shit_.

 

Seungcheol barely had one hour of sleep when his pager went off – _“who the fuck even uses pager nowadays?”_ – ripping him from his dreamland, digits 107 in sight. Upon noticing the code red, he stripped out of his stars-covered pyjamas and into a leather get-up as he flew out of his penthouse, a Blaser R93 sniper rifle fastened across his back.

 

He was down to 2 kilometers away from the marked destination when his inner earpiece crackled.

 

_“Strip that arrogance of yours this time.”_

“Why? Are you worried of me?” Seungcheol jested, a playful smile tittering by the corner of his lips.

 

_“I just don’t want to go through the same lengthy procedure of hiring another hitman if your pigheadedness were to cost your life.”_

And Seungcheol boomed with laughter as he parked at an abandoned alley, both him and his car perfectly camouflaged by the darkness, “But I came out alive, didn’t I?”

_“With few fucking wounds! I swear to god, Seungcheol, if you ignore my commands again I shall –”_

 

“I won’t,” he promised, hands already fitted with gloves, a relieve sigh heard from the other end made his heart bloomed with warmth. Into two years working together as partners – Jihoon being the brain and Seungcheol as the executer –  Seungcheol found it comforting to see how Jihoon was still as anxious as ever. As if every mission was their first. As if they were not the top team of their division, having a high success rate of 95%.

 

Though, Seungcheol understood Jihoon completely. For he too would be as restless if they were to exchange places, given that each task would put them on the brink of death and all it would take was one slip for everything to fall apart. So he did a second run-through – he always did before diving headfirst into the threat laid before him – when he spotted his nearly beat-up pager, “and here I thought I deserve something more than a pager after what I went through.”

 

_“Fine, I’ll change it to-”_

 

“Something better?”

 

 _“-something better_.” A pause, “ _Please b_ _e safe_ ”.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

 

The breakfast however, did turn into a brunch instead when Seungcheol ended up sleeping through few of his alarms. But Jihoon was happy enough to see Seungcheol all up and alive, his hands felt warm from the blood coursing through his veins.

 

 

 

**five.**

 

_11:50 p.m._

 

“Where are you taking me?”

 

_11:54 p.m._

 

“I have a demo track I need to work on.”

 

_11:57 p.m._

 

“This better be worth my time, Choi Seungcheol.”

 

_11:59 p.m._

 

“Why are we here?”

 

_Four._

 

“Hyung.”

 

_Three._

 

“It’s cold out here.”

 

_Two._

 

“Explain.”

 

_One._

 

“It’s winter and I only have-” a pair of lips instantly latched onto his as the nearby fireworks went off, the words eventually died in his throat, Seungcheol’s hands rested on the curve of his jaws. The peck was short-lived, yet the heat from it lingered. Noses aligned, cheeks tinted, breaths apparent – they still found themselves smiling at each other’s appearance under the trickle of snowflakes.

 

Seungcheol had heard several tales involving kissing and the first snow; and among them, he somehow entertained the idea of first snow confession. A seal for love to last forever. Apparently Jihoon too had heard the same elsewhere when he tugged Seungcheol closer, reeling in for a second peck.

 

“I take that as a yes?” Seungcheol mumbled against Jihoon’s warm lips ( _it almost felt like a déjà vu_ ), the friction sending flutters down his spine.

 

“A solid yes,” another peck to the lips, “now kiss me before I turn ice-cold.”

 

And Seungcheol did not have to be told twice before he lessened the gap and pulled both of them into the abyss of warmth, eventually numbed from the freezing air. Winter be damned for all that Seungcheol knew as he marvelled in more taste of Jihoon, the cursed pain bestowed upon him every Christmas had vanished.

 

He wasn’t aware of it in his previous lives.

 

But at least the warmth he had been craving was there to stay.

 

Forever.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what I just wrote cause I started writing this at 2 am in the morning, so yeah. I wanted to make it abstract and beautiful, but oh well - I just hope you'll get the main theme of this hastily-done drabble. <3


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